


Earning his stripes

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Authority Figures, Bisexual Male Character, Biting, Chair Sex, F/M, Face Slapping, Female Character In Command, Femdom, First Time, Kissing, Licking, Military, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Older Woman/Younger Man, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pulling Rank, Rough Sex, Scars, Scratching, Semi-Clothed Sex, Size Kink, Standing Sex, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fredericia made some quick calculations.  It was three in the morning; he was seven years her junior; it had been two years since her last good fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earning his stripes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BalthCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalthCat/gifts).



"It's impossible," César said, looking dismally at the charts and plans spread out over the large table.

"It's not impossible," Fredericia told the colonel sternly, coming to look over his shoulder. "We just haven't figured out how to make it possible yet."

He shook his head, grim-faced. "The terrain..."

"Stop worrying so much about the voided terrain. Terrain won't make or break us." 

César looked up at her. There were dark hollows under his eyes, which was understandable - it was the middle of the night, and they'd been at this since early morning. Fredericia had sent most of her staff officers home an hour or so earlier - they had wives, husbands, children who might care to see them occasionally. César de Béziers didn't, and neither did she, so they were the ones who got to stay up until dawn trying to figure out the solution to their dilemma, the one that would let them overcome the Psyrene rebels. Those green eyes were still hopeful, though: hopeful that his Warlord would find the answer. She wanted very badly to be able to tell him it would all be fine, but she couldn't. Instead she put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up," she said.

He nodded, turning to stare glumly at the table again. Fredericia left her hand on him longer than she strictly needed to. His shoulder was thick with muscle, tense, but still oddly comforting to touch. Before she fully realized what she was doing, her fingers were pressed against the nape of his neck, stroking the short-cropped copper hair there. He bent his head forward, sighing, so she stroked him more firmly, trying to massage away a little of the tension if she could. When she finally drew her hand back, a little regretfully, he looked up, pleading. "Don't stop..."

Fredericia made some quick calculations. It was three in the morning; he was seven years her junior; it had been two years since her last good fuck. "Stand up, colonel," she said, and enjoyed watching him snap to attention at her bidding. She looked him up and down, as if he was undergoing inspection, and added another piece of data to her mental arithmetic: he was a good foot and a half taller than her, and probably outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. She liked them big, but this would take some doing. "I've decided we need a break, to help clear our minds."

"Yes ma'am," he said agreeably, probably expecting her to order a quick jog around the palace. 

"So you're going to fuck me," Fred told him, savouring the look on his face, a mix of surprise, excitement, and maybe just a little bit of terror.

"Uh... yes ma'am." He was so good at following orders, she thought fondly. "Right here, or...?"

"Not on the charts," she said. "Can't risk ruining those. Move them aside." He hastened to roll them up and clear a space on the heavy wooden table, while she unbuttoned her shirt, brisk and business-like. When he turned back, he was confronted with the sight of her bared breasts, and grinned as though he was still the teenager he had been when she had first met him, not a man not far from thirty. Well, she had to admit they were still pretty good tits, all things considered. Certainly he seemed to admire them. "Trousers," she told him firmly, and enjoyed watching him hurry to obey. He got them down around his ankles with military efficiency, while it took her a few seconds longer to take her boots off and strip off her pants. She took a moment to admire the sight of his cock, thick and already rock-hard, before strolling over casually to take it in her hand. 

"Going to inspect my weapon, ma'am?" he asked cheekily.

She stroked his length, appraising him. "A bit unwieldy, but at least you keep it clean," she said at last, giving him a crooked smile.

"Oh, don't worry - I don't have any problems wielding it," César assured her. One of his big hands wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, while the other cupped her breast, callused thumb teasing across her nipple. She tipped her head up, thinking she would have liked to kiss him, but he was out of reach - at least until he bent down and embraced her with both arms, lifting her off the ground entirely. He was a good kisser, she decided, but that made sense; the gossip was that he got plenty of practice. She'd heard that practice could be with men or women, but that didn't bother her, as long as he knew what he was doing. His middle-of-the-night stubble scratched her skin a bit, but she didn't mind. And, another point in his favour, he didn't shy away from the scar that carved up her left cheek, ending a hair's breadth from her eye - he kissed it along with every other part of her he could reach. 

"Put me down," she managed to say while he was grabbing a breath. "On the table." He complied, setting her down on the sturdy wooden surface. Fredericia spread her legs, letting him close with her. He slid his fingers along her slit, finding her slick and more than ready.

"More of this?" he asked, rubbing his thumb against her clit.

She shook her head. "Maybe later. Right now I just want you inside me."

"Yes ma'am," César said promptly, getting into position. Fred leaned back onto her elbows a little to help him as he shoved his way into her - not too gentle, that was good. She grabbed his shirt and tore it open, sending several buttons clattering to the floor. Unable to help herself, she groaned when he gripped her hips to pull them closer to his and slammed into her again, harder than before. 

"Yeah, you can go, unh," she managed to gasp, "as rough as you want." He nodded, and began administering a vigorous pounding that made her teeth rattle and her bones ache - just what she needed. "Good, ohh, fuck yes," she moaned, grabbing her tits to steady them when their jiggling got to be too much to take, taking the opportunity to pinch her nipples tight. He felt like he could break her pelvis, split her right in two, and that would have been fine with her right then. 

He leaned forward over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head, driving even deeper, and she encouraged him by reaching up to give one of his nipples a sharp twist. "Ahh gods, Fred!" he choked out.

"Ahh gods who?" she snapped back, squeezing him harder.

"Warlord, ma'am," he whispered, contrite. 

"Don't stop here, soldier," she ordered, releasing her grip, and he immediately resumed his bone-breaking pace. She knew she couldn't wait much longer, so she brought her hand down to her clit, rubbing it roughly, working with the harsh tug and pull of his cock hammering into her, and was soon rewarded by an orgasm that exploded through her entire body, shattering her steely control with a scream.

He hesitated a moment, waiting for her directives. "More," she gasped when she could manage to speak, and that was all the instruction he needed. He pulled her up roughly, balancing all her weight on his cock as he brought her into his arms. He lifted her easily, locking his hands underneath her ass, and she clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him, feeling comforted by his strength as he thrust into her once again. She moved with him, every stroke sending a shudder through her still-sensitive cunt, and soon she was coming for a second time. Twisting, arching her back, stretching up against his chest, at the moment of her climax she dug her teeth into the flesh over his collarbone, making him shout and stagger back a step, almost tripping himself with his pants around his ankles, but fortunately not dropping her.

"Oh, please..." he groaned.

"Please what?" she murmured, and licked the raw spot she'd just made, so that he whimpered. 

"I need to come..." 

She reached up and slapped him across the face, hard enough to startle him. "I wasn't asking what you wanted, soldier. You forgot who you're talking to. Please what?"

"Please, Warlord," he amended, cheeks flushing almost as red as his hair.

"For that infraction, you'll have to wait. I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to be finished." 

She could feel his muscles trembling already, but he nodded anyway. "Yes ma'am." He closed his eyes, holding on tight, still fucking her, but with more ragged strokes now, not so smooth and steady as before. Fred ground her hips against his, scratching down his shoulders with her short nails, hard enough to leave red stripes behind. He hardly seemed to notice, so intent was he on not coming before she told him he was allowed. It was endearing, really, how much he wanted to please her.

After a few more minutes, she relented. "Sit," she told him, nodding in the direction of his chair. "But keep me on you." Gratefully he sank down into the seat, holding her close so she didn't slip off him. She steadied herself, knees on either side of him, and rode him slowly for a little longer. When she was at the uppermost point of her stroke, with just the very tip of his cock still inside her, she could look him in the face, read the need that was written so plainly there. She reached out to touch the cheek she'd slapped, rough with stubble and still rosy from her hand. "Come for me now," she murmured, and pushed down onto him again, hard. 

César's hips jerked upwards to meet her, sharp and urgent, like an arrow finally released from a bow. He shuddered violently, so hard he might have thrown her off if she hadn't been strong enough to hold on through his orgasm, which seemed to go on for ages. When he was finally finished she stayed atop him a few moments longer, resting her head against his shoulder, feeling how hard his heart was pounding. "Been wanting that for years," he whispered.

"Why didn't you say something, then?"

"Didn't think you'd be interested," he said, blushing.

"Guess you were wrong." She would have liked to stay there longer, but there was work to do. She kissed him one more time, then pulled her shirt closed and slid off him, regretfully, to retrieve her trousers.

"Got it," she heard him say from across the room.

"Got what?"

"The answer," he said, still breathless. "If the terrain's bad, we change the terrain." He launched into his explanation, and she listened intently, nodding. It was perfect. 

"Colonel," she said at last, when he'd finished, "if this is how you do your best thinking, clearly we need to work late more often."

"Yes ma'am," he agreed, grinning, and stood to pull up his pants.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
